


But tomorrow never came

by SnowHime



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Hargrove is a Mess, Cheap Motels, Control Issues, Daddy Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Non-Consensual Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, K-marts and Gas Stations, Kidnapping, M/M, Power Imbalance, Road Trips, Runaway, Sharing a Bed, Steve Harrington is Dramatic Brat, Steve's sailor outfit, Stockholm Syndrome, gun threatening
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-04-06 21:17:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19070839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowHime/pseuds/SnowHime
Summary: “I don't want your fucking money.” Billy spat, snapping out of the strange dozed off state. He looked around warily, jaw working. “You are going with me.”Steve made a little pinched hysterical laugh, and looked to the side too, thinking his way out of this mess. But then Billy dragged him from the doorway, into the street, into the rain, into the night. Gun still pointed on him.“Get into the car.” He said.Steve blinked, wet eyelashes clinging together.





	1. Ladies And Gentlemen Of The Jury

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CeruleanHeart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeruleanHeart/gifts).



> “And she was mine, she was mine, the key was in my fist, my fist was in my pocket, she was mine.”  
> ― Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita

Blue neon numbers trapped in the electronic clocks screamed ten PM.

Steve sprawled his legs, lazily lying on the couch. TV played some cheesy family show, colorful enough to watch and dumb enough to not worry about the plot. Trying to reach out the last remains of sour cream`n onion Pringles, he sighed. Why the fuck these tubes was so tiny? How a guy was supposed to enjoy his life when even stupid potatoes tried to make this harder than it already was?

Making a face, he just poured all that left into his mouth. Some of the crumbs fell onto his sailor shirt. Licking his lips absently, he just brushed them onto the floor. Wouldn't make a big difference in the already messy room. His parents won't come back till the next week, so who cares? 

Definitely not Steve.

 

Jesus, he really felt pathetic. That's not how he imagined his post-Prom life. Not even close, to be honest. He dreamed about starting being adult with Nancy, about starting a _family_ , about good stable work. Maybe he even dreamed about making his way into some college, to make Nance finally proud of him. Make dad and mom proud of him.

He fucked it up, of course. As always. 

Steve-idiot-Harrington.

Rejected by the whole world, including several colleges, his girlfriend and his own parents, he found himself here. Alone in the big house, in front of the TV, eating junk food and dressed into that ridiculous Scoops Ahoy uniform in which he felt like a little kid. 

Looked like one, too.

But well, it could be worse. At least he was getting some money since his dad took away the credit card. Which was unfair and an asshole move. 

_Typical dad_.

Grabbing the nearest pillow, Steve wraps his arms around it, snuggling. It was already dark, and heated day changed into the rainy evening, pretty gloomy one. Time to time there struck a flash of lightning, like in the horror movies. Steve still remembered that day when Tommy stole Halloween VHS tape from his older brother so they could watch it on Steve's sleepover. That's kinda freaked the shit out of him and he couldn't calm down until mildly annoyed mildly worried Tommy did a pillow fort castle oh his bed and promised to hold his hand all night, even if they go sweaty. 

Yea, that was the times.

Too bad they stopped to be friends on such a bad note. Sometimes, in the moments of weakness, Steve considers to go and apologize, but he isn't sure what it will work out. He changed too much. Besides, Tommy found him a replacement in the face of Hargrove pretty damn fast. 

But that's how the life goes, they say. 

On this note, lost in his chaotic thoughts, he dozes off, lulled by the sound of violent raindrops knocking on the windows and happy voices from the TV.

 

Some time later, he jumps from the loud repeating banging sound, nearly falling on the floor, legs numb from the uncomfortable pose. Sucking shaky breath in, Steve searched area in the sight of monsters.

There was, thank you, Lord, no any. Only crazy aggressive knocking on the door. 

Running a hand through his hair and trying to tame it a bit, Steve wiped his cheek from the nap drool and went to the door in a hurry. With his heart still beating in _DANGER DANGER DANGER_ , he opened the door, just to stop that ugly damn sound, and only then thought about how dumb it was.

Billy fucking Hargrove, standing in front of him in soaked clothes, as it seems, thought the same.

At least on a few seconds, Steve felt the _are you for real?_ expression on his face.

Which was a lot from a person who wanders around the town when it's raining in the night.

And then Billy pulled out the gun.

 

Steve's eyes go wide, but when he opened his mouth Billy grabbed his arm in a steel grip what probably will leave bruises, and aimed the gun to his heart.

“You fucking scream and I swear I'll kill you.” He sneered. There is a smeared blood on his face, Steve realized. Under this rain, it's hard to say is it his or someone's else.

“Wha-what the fuck, man?” He screeched, in embarrassingly high pitched voice. “Hargrove, are you high, or-”

“What did I just fucking said.” Billy growled aggressively, and Steve flinched back. Tan fingers around his biceps squeezed harder. “Shut the fuck up, Harrington, or I will fucking blow the brains outta your pretty head.”

Steve swallowed, wishing he had the nailed bat here. 

Billy looked crazy.

Steve already had a gun pointed on him, and he dealt with monsters before. But that's brought no relief because by some reason Billy Hargrove was scarier than everything Steve met.

“You. You want money, right? It's-”

“I don't want your fucking money.” Billy spat, snapping out of the strange dozed off state. He looked around warily, jaw working. “You are going with me.”

Steve made a little pinched hysterical laugh, and looked to the side too, thinking his way out of this mess. But then Billy dragged him from the doorway, into the street, into the rain, into the night. Gun still pointed on him.

“Get into the car.” He said.

Steve blinked, wet eyelashes clinging together.

 

Billy was going to kill him.

Was he? Did he hate Steve so much what he decided to drove him into the woods and shot him with the gun?

Panic rose into his chest, stucking somewhere in his throat. Steve just stared at Billy, dumbfounded. He didn't want to die.

Sure, sometimes he said stuff like that (to Robin especially), but he was just a teen. They all said stuff like that. They don't mean it, usually. Not really.

“Jesus fucking Christ”, Billy muttered under his breath and pushed Steve into the passenger seat roughly. Thunder ranged, and in the contrasting light of lightning, Billy looked like that psycho guy from Shining.

He took the driver's seat, and Camaro went out from Steve's yard, into the darkness.

 

Steve's heart was beating like crazy. It seemed like if Billy won't kill him soon enough he will die from the heart failure. Frozen into his seat, Steve tried to take deep breaths. He didn't want to die. He was scared. 

There was a lot of stories he heard, headlines on the newspapers, photos on the milk boxes. 

Gone without a trace, tortured, killed and thrown into the ditch. He still remembered Jonathan's younger brother pictures hanging around the town. 

Do you know me?

Have you seen me?

He didn't want to have his photo under these sentences, ever. 

Billy said something, cigarette already between his lips, and Steve looked at him slowly. 

“You deaf or something? I said, buckle your seatbelt.” Billy repeated louder. 

“I..what?..”

“Seatbelt, Harrington.” Billy rolled his eyes. There was a bruise on the left one, ugly and painful looking. “That thing what saves you from getting ended if we gonna crush into some tree.” 

“I know what seatbelt is, asshole!” Steve shouted, face hot. Billy raised his eyebrows, shrugging indifferently. 

Steve hated him _so_ much. 

It was some kind of a sick cat-mouse game?

“I. I mean.” He swallowed, panic rising up again. “Are you going to kill me, in the forest?” Finally, he blurted out.

The car stopped abruptly, and Steve regretted what he actually didn't buckle his belt.

Billy stared at him with a shocked expression on his curls-framed face. 

“ _Kill_ you?” He said, eyes big. Something dark ran on his features, changing into the different mix of emotions, from disbelieving to amusement.

Steve held his breath, terrified to make a sound.

And Billy started to laugh. It was a quiet chuckling at first, what turned into something loud and uncontrollable.

Steve just stared at him in horror, watching how Billy's laugh dies slowly and he puts his head onto the leather steering wheel, like if he was exhausted. 

“God. Aren't you something? I can't fucking believe.” He muttered, sighing. “What are you think, it's some cheap horror for school kids? I'm not some freaking maniac, you know. You dramatic little bitch.”

Oh.

_Oh_.

“When what all of this means? What the fuck is going on if you not going to kill me?” Steve asked, frustrated and confused. He couldn't stop trembling, for some reason.

“Hm.” Billy straightened up. His shoulders were so wide. Even his posture was, it seemed like he wants to fill all the free space with himself. “Let's see.” He smacked his lips, purposely obnoxious. “Got into the fight with my old man, shot his leg, grabbed all his bucks and went off to the races.” He said casually. Then wiped his nose, smearing the blood on the blue jeans. “And you, _darling_ , will be my hostage until I will be safe and far far away. And killing you, actually, don't go into my original plan. But don't even try to run away.” 

“You are crazy,” Steve whispered, after some processing time. “You are totally bonkers, man.” 

Billy sent him Cheshire cat smile, white and big and full of bloodied teeth. 

“I know.” He said, calmly. “Now buckle your fucking seatbelt.”


	2. In My Arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Just look like you like me. That's all I want."  
> -Buffalo 66

Billy took a deep breath. He made it. He escaped.

He fucking _escaped_.

A straitened laugh fell out of his mouth; a silent sob followed after. 

He made it. 

No more suffering, no more pain, no more fear. No more Neil.

Fucker can rot in Hell, Billy didn't care. The only thing what he really regrets is what he shot a bullet into his leg and not right into that pathetic mockery of a heart he had.

Now, he just needed to get far enough and safe enough to start a new life. He didn't really know the final point of his destination, but Billy was sure that somewhere here, in the scattering of the various US states, he will find his place.

He wiped his nose what still bleed occasionally, looked at the dozed off Steve.

His eyes trailed to the sight of dark curled up lashes, soft line of pale cheek, the pink pout of his lips. Guy surely slept like a baby for someone who was just threatened with a gun and kidnapped straight outta his house. Maybe, it was some kind of shock what knocked him off, who knows.

Billy got out of the car and opened the passenger seat door.

The air was fresh and cold after the rain and smelled like earth and grass.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” Billy said in a singing voice. “I've got us a place to spend the night.” 

“Uh. I'm..who...” Steve mumbled softly, frowning in his still sleepy state. Billy thought he would throw a fuss right away, but Steve just opened his tired eyes to slowly blink at him and give him the most unamused glare. “Oh. It's _you_. Right.”

Honestly, what a little bitch.

“Come on, we don't have all night.” Billy snarled back at him, watching impatiently at Steve sleepy pouting. “You're not the only one who needs sleep to survive, Harrington, stop fucking testing me.”

“Alright, alright, Jesus!” Steve exclaimed. Billy already forgot how fucking loud he is. Now he thinks he actually prefers Steve who just sleeps nearby and looks pretty. “Let me...let me just-” He huffed, trying to get free from the seatbelt.

After some time of unsuccessful trying, Billy's patience ended and he bent down to unbuckle it himself.

He felt Steves flinching, and how his breath hitched. It was good. It meant Steve was still scared of him.

Billy wasn't sure what his little cheap trick with the gun will work out. Of course, he would never shot Harrington. He's not a freaking psycho.

But Harrington didn't need to know that.

The more obedient he would be to Billy, the better.

Honestly, having so much power other another person was kinda breathtaking. It was even better than to be a lifeguard in that stupid pool and bossing everyone around.

“Here you go, pretty boy.” Billy purred gently, his face just in a few inches from Harrington's face. His eyes were so big and shiny right now, and with the slight flutter of eyelashes, he looked like a freaking cartoon princess. They stared into each other faces for a moment what felt more like an eternity, until Billy noticed what Steve's eyes fell to his lips. He swallowed hard, trying to focus. “Or you so tired what you wanna me to carry you upstairs, too?” Mocked he, slapping Steve tight and making his way to the Pink Flamingo Motel, scared of his own desperate urge to kiss Steve silly.

“Oh, _shut up_.”

 

The motel was pretty cheap. Peeled off white paint, few plastic flamingos in the poorly raised garden, flickering light in the lanterns. But it had a bed and a shower, and right now it was all that Billy needed.

“Ladies first.” He said, opening the creaking door. Harrington rolled his eyes and walked in.

Then he stopped in the middle of the room.

“It. It has only one bed.” Said he dumbly.

“Oh, really?” Billy threw his hands up with a fake consideration. “Thank you _so_ much for clarifying, pretty boy. After all, I'm blind and fucking dumb so I didn't realize which exactly room I take for us. What I would do without you.” 

Steve gave him a funny look, crashing onto the bed. He's tiny blue shorts rolled up a bit, exposing creamy thick tights.

“I dunno.” Said he with a little shrug. “Not much I guess, considering the fact you needed to take me with you against my will.”

Now it was Billys turn to roll his eyes. 

“It has only one bed because we need to save up the money, smartass. I'm not a fucking millionaire.” He said. “You should thank me what I'm letting you sleep on the bed with me, and not leaving you shivering on the fucking floor.”

Steve made a frustrated noise and buried his head into the pillow.

It was a perfect moment while he laid on the bed, so Billy took his backpack from the floor. Took a few things out.

“Oh. Dude, come one.” Steve whined when he saw handcuffs in Billy's hands. “I promise I won't run away.”

“Sorry, Harrington.” He answered, cuffing Steves hand to the bed headboard. “I've grown up from the times when pinky promises was a thing.”

Steve sent him an icy glare.

“They have comics journals here if it will make you feel better. I would offer you a book, but not sure if you ever read something without the pictures.” 

Steve showed him a middle finger and turned away, sulking.

 

Standing in the bathroom room, Billy started in the mirror. There was someone else, in the reflection, staring at him back with red from crying eyes.

It was someone who killed old Billy Hargrove. With the gun, with the car, with the razor blade. 

It was a new Billy. Free Billy. Reborn, like a butterfly. Broken down and grown up again. 

Stronger. Better. 

He ran a hand over his shaved head, adjusting to the feel of short spikes instead of long dark blond curls. It felt different and strange, but not in a bad way. It was like he was a snake who shed his old skin. 

Used electric shaver laid on the sink, curled cut off locks was forgotten in the pastel trash can.

Turning his head in the different angles, he looked and looked and looked. Long hair was pretty neat, especially in the sense of pissing Neil off-he did a lot of the things just out of spite. And girls always swooned at the smallest sigh of him, breathing out how _dreamy_ he was with his long hair, _just like a rockstar, Billy_.

Guys loved that too.

His looks were one of the rare things what Neil was unable to control, so Billy clung on that like on a saving straw. But now, he felt like he needed to start his life from a new page.

Besides, even with a shaved head, he still looked handsome. Even more brutal now. Like Terminator. 

He could work with that.

He wiped the water drops what stayed on him after the shower with a badly sewed motel towel, trying not to disturb his wounds after the fight with Neil, hissing from pain time to time. 

Fucking belt with a Texas Bull buckle. It always left the worst cuts.

Holding the Catholic necklace of Virgin Mary in his hand, Billy whispered evening prayers. The necklace was getting tinier and tinier with every year as he continued to grow up and getting bigger. He remembered the heavy feeling it gave him in the beginning when mom just gave it to him. Now it felt almost weightless, despite all of his sins.

When the adrenaline of the day was gone along with the dirt and blood what he washed away from himself, Billy realized how exhausted he was. 

With only boxers on, he returned into the room with a casual, almost bored expression on his face.

Harrington was stretched out on the bed, softly illuminated by the dim light of the old dusty bedside lamp. He looked so innocent in his outfit, with the comics chaotically laying around, with long white socks on, what Billy felt a burning desire to ruin him.

He could, Billy thought, licking his dry lips. 

He could do a lot of things with Harrington now-dirty things, filthy things, things what chased him in his wet dreams. 

Harrington couldn't do much in this position, handcuffed to the bed and scared. Of course, he would throw a little fight, he was an ex _King Steve_ after all, but that would only excite Billy more. Steve would be helpless, in his arms.

Billy could do a lot of things. He wouldn't, but he could.

That gave him an odd sense of something close to comfort.

Harrington opened his mouth to say something, but then his eyes traced from Billy's Abs to his shaved head, and he just stared at him as if he saw him for a first time, with a mouth still slightly agape.

Cocking one eyebrow, Billy slowly, really slowly came up to the bed, his head up and his shoulders wide. He trailed his teeth with a tongue, enjoying that what he had all of Steve's attention now. 

“Like it, pretty boy?“ He asked, taunting. 

“Whatever.“ Harrington ducked his head down, almost shyly. “Just don't make me do this too. I would rather take a bullet.“

“Sure you would.“ Billy answered calmly, picking up the key for the handcuffs. “Don't worry. If our _Wanted_ posters will hang around, I think we can just add some makeup on your little girly face and call it a day.“

“Ha-ha.“ Steve said flatly. Still, his face lighted up with excitement and relief when Billy uncuffed him.

A reward for good behavior.

“Finally. My hand was starting to feel numb already.“ He bitched, rubbing the reddened skin on his wrist.

“Yeah, very interesting, Harrington, but I don't fucking care. Now move your ass to the wall, I will sleep here. And don't even try any funny things, you got it? I sleep lightly, like a damn soldier. Any extra sound-and you're dead.“ 

He pointedly put his gun under the pillow. 

Harrington huffed apathetically, and Billy roughly grabbed his shoulder. 

“I asked. _You got it_?“

“Yes, yes, Jesus, I got it! I won't try anything, man.“

“You fucking better.“ Billy said and turned lights off, and darkness filled the room.

 

After some time, when Steve's breath stilled and his features completely relaxed, making him look like some brown-haired cherub, Billy carefully put his arm around his torso, enjoying the feeling of their skin contact. Steve murmured something unintelligible in his sleep, sighed, and leaned closer, to Billy's warmth.

Billy inhaled his scent-mix of ice cream with what he worked today, something light and flowery what was probably from his shampoo, his own faint musky smell.

He was so pretty and so close what it made Billy's heart hurt with unfamiliar tenderness.

Billy was completely, desperately, madly in love.

“Good night, pretty boy.“ Said he, voice barely a whisper. His thumb brushed pale skin of Steve's round shoulder. 

The truth was, Billy didn't really need a hostage. He knew what for Neil it was probably would be too humiliating to call the cops and tell them what happened. Fucker was too proud for this shit.

Billy just didn't want to be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, u can find me here -https://billyandsteve.tumblr.com/ if u wanna talk or send each other cute memes or scream bout Harringrove!!  
> Next chapter gonna be Steves pov again, and very Lana Del Rey "1949" song inspired🍒❤️ Thank you for reading and let me know if i need to add some more trigger tags!


	3. Take Me To Bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “He's just a boy, pretending to be a wolf, pretending to be a king.”  
> ― Maurice Sendak, Where the wild things are

Steve chewed a Cherry Cola gum ( _Bubblicious!_ the wrapping said), popping it from time to time as they were passing numerous shelves cluttered with canned food. To him, all of it seemed rather gross, but he knew better than try to argue about that.

Sometimes you gotta bite your tongue. It called basic survival instinct. 

The experience of shopping in a K-mart with Billy Hargrove like some old married couple was probably the wildest thing Steve did in his life. Yes, monsters hunting included. Under the dark brown sunglasses what he stole from Billy, he watched with a sour face at the ugly cans of Campbell soup, beans and pork, and, _the horror_ , spaghetti with meatballs. 

Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to create this insult to the Italian food, Steve didn't know. What he knew is that if his mom saw him eating this, she probably would have a fit of hysteria. 

Standing with one leg on the shopping cart and pushing it forward with another one, he tried to fix his hair once again. He took a shower in the morning while they were in the motel, and without Farrah Fawcett stuff his hair was too flat. 

He felt like a regular person would feel without the clothes on. Defenseless and kinda vulnerable. 

That's really was a bummer.

“I want a coke.“ He said casually, spinning the cart a bit.

Billy's blue eyes slowly teared away from price tag for canned corn up to Steve's face. 

“Yeah? What else do you want, pretty boy?“ He asked, raising his dark eyebrows.

“Actually, I-“ 

Billy snorted. His nose was covered with little summer freckles, Steve noticed now. “Okay, your Highness. Sorry, but this is not a fucking A class summer vacation.“ 

“Oh, dude. Come on!“ 

“I said no.“ 

“Well, actually, you didn't-“ 

“Well, actually, you didn't,“ Billy mocked in a high pitched whiny voice. “Okay, dumbass. _No_.“

“Why you didn't gave me time to grab my own money before fucking stealing me straight from my doorway.“ Steve groaned, slouching other the cart.

Billy looked at him with a little surprised, amused expression. 

Steve already hated all that he was going to say. 

“But where is fun in that, Harrington?“ Billy smiled.

 

When they were standing in the check-out line after some old lady who decided to buy food supply what would be enough for the nuclear apocalypse, Billy stood out.

“Forgot to take few things, gonna be right back in a minute.“ He said, face scrunched up a little, like if he was flustered, or something. “You stay here and be a good boy, got it?“ 

Steve sent him annoyed look through the sunglasses, but that only seemed to cheer Billy up by some reason. 

Never in his life Steve knew someone this weird.

“Quit pouting, Harrington. I'm gonna be fast.“ Billy whispered in a low raspy voice, leaning over him. Steve could feel the suffocating scent of cigarettes and Billy's cologne, could see the Catholic necklace swinging on the tan chest under his wifebeater shirt. 

He blinked, face going hot. Gripped the green handler of the K-mart cart, suddenly nervous. 

Billy run tongue over his toothpaste commercial white teeth, grinned.

“Okay.“ He said, slapping Steve on the shoulder, and then went into the labyrinth of the shelves, without any single glance back.

Steve watched him go.

When he was eight, his mom lost him at the airport. He doesn't remember much of that day besides the overwhelming fear and panic and what some woman gave him a milky way in the attempt (a miserably failed one) to calm him down and stop him from crying.

He thought mom will never find him again, what he will be alone forever. The world seemed pretty big and scary, and Steve didn't really knew how it works. He thought if you get lost, you get lost forever.

Mom found him very quick though, just in fifteen minutes. Scolded him, hugged him, thanked that poor lady who kept him a company and continued day as nothing even happened. 

She always was good at it.

Right now, standing here with a cart full of canned food, listening annoying music what played on, ten years many months after that day, he felt a light echo of these sticky, cold, unreasonable fear.

He didn't had his money, didn't had his car, didn't even really knew where are they were right now. All he had was his stupid Scoops Ahoy shorts, Billy's plain white shirt, and brown sunglasses what he stole today from the backseat, and the last remains of his dignity.

That's definitely wasn't a lot.

Actually, he wasn't this helpless since he was a kid, but even then he had at least a little money with him. _Just in case_ , dad always said, _me and your mother will be calmer that way_.

He probably meant what Steve would need them if he will get lost again so he could use a phone or a bus. Or a nutritious food, at least, so he won't die out of starvation. 

Steve just spend it all on soda and ice cream instead.

“Hey, kid. You alright here?“ Someone behind him asked, and Steve jolted on his place.

“Um, I'm. Yes?“ He said, glancing on the stranger in a dark suit and trying to look like he didn't freak out a second ago. “Why?“ 

The stranger shrugged, calmly watching on his wrist watches. “It's your turn to buy.“ 

Steve looked on the line, cursing silently. The old lady was gone already, and the cashier girl was sending him an impatient glare.

“Oh, right, right. Sorry,“ he smiled apologetically, not even really knowing with who exactly he was talking. “Just, uh. Got lost in thoughts.“ 

“That's alright. We all getting lost sometimes.“ Man in a suit said, with a little smile that didn't reach out his eyes.

“Yeah.“ Steve agreed, handing the corn to the cashier hurriedly. He was a bit flustered what he was buying this cheap stuff in front of someone whose cart was filled with expensive champagne and seafood and who wore a Rolex and suit just for a local K-mart.

Then he remembered what he didn't even buying it. _Billy_ was buying it, and Steve had no fucking money to do it himself.

“Cash or card?“ Cashier girl asked, green eyes filled with boredom, indifferent to his inner suffering. 

“Um. Uh, I'm sorry, but can you wait a little? It's just.“ Steve sighed, tired to do the kicked puppy face girls liked on him that much. “My friend is paying today, and he just remembered to grab something important. He will be back soon. Please,“ He read a name on her plastic tag, made his eyes a little bigger, leaned a little closer. “Emily? Pretty please?“

She tapped cashbox with her bright pink nails, pursing her glossy lips. “Listen, mister, I'm not in the mood today. Pay or go away.“

“Hey. I can help, if you have a problem with money.“ Stranger said. His heavy hand gently touched Steve's back. 

Steve opened his mouth, but then he saw Billy finally coming back with bottles of coke and a few different snacks.

He looked rather furious. 

That was bad.

“Oh, thanks, but I think there is no need-“

Billy grabbed his arm, tugging him away from the man in the line.

“What did I fucking told you, Harrington.“ He hissed in his ear quietly, “You are not allowed to talk with strangers.“

“I'm not a fucking kid.“ Steve whispered back venomously. “Stop treating me like one. What do you think gonna happen, huh? What some crazy guy gonna fly off the handle and, oh no, _kidnap_ me?“ 

Billy looked at him like he was going to commit a murder.

Then stranger coughed, and their starring content ended with it. Billy pulled out his leather wallet, intentionally ignoring everyone around him. Even the cashier girl, who suddenly seemed to be very in the mood.

“Not to be noisy,“ the man said, “But you sure everything alright?“

“Oh.“ Steve beamed, grabbing the coke right under Billy's hand unceremoniously. “Thank you, but everything is just _peachy_. You see, that's my friend, _my bestest friend_ here, Billy-he took me on a dream trip after we graduated, can you believe? Even planned it all by himself, made such a big surprise for me, Jesus. _What a guy_.“

 

Then they finally reached the parking lot, Billy roughly pinned Steve to his car. A bottle of Coca Cola felt from Steve's hand and crashed on the asphalt with a loud ugly sound.

“Billy, what the fuck-“ 

“Okay, Harrington, listen up, cause I'm not gonna repeat.“ Billy snarled, face feral with rage. “ _You. Don't. Disobey. Me_.“ He emphasized every world, caging Steve with his hands on Camaro, trapping him with his leg between Steve's knees. “If I fucking said no talking with strangers, you shut your big mouth up and don't talk with them. Do you understand, or you are even dumber than I originally thought?“

“Hey, stop talking with me like with a fucking kid!“ Steve shouted. He was angry and tired and just wanted to be at home right now, with air conditioner and heated pool and normal food. Far away from aggressive mean guys who could bash his skull in if they wanted to. “Okay, I kept the conversation going as a polite person, sue me! What else I was supposed to do, you fucking left me on the line without fucking money!“

Billy's nose twitched, and he stared into Steve's face. After some time, his facial features softened. 

“You are such a brat, you know it?“ He said in a way what was strangely similar to pleased, and Steve crossed his arms on his chest defensively as soon as Billy remembered what people should have their personal space. “I don't know what the fuck your father was doing, but disciplining you certainly wasn't on his to-do list.“

That wasn't exactly true. 

Yes, dad never hit him or did stuff like that, but when Steve was a little child and threw tantrums, he often locked him up in a tiny dark room and left him there on a few hours to cool down.

But it's not like Billy needed to know it.

“Get into the car.“ Billy said calmly, letting Steve go. “And for the record, Harrington? If you don't wanna be treated like a kid, then you need to stop acting like one.“

 

They drove almost whole day, stopping only on Gas Stations to pump gas and visit the greasy bathrooms. Steve spend all the time by looking in the window in silence, shoulders slumped and feet on the seat, ignoring all the glances Billy was giving him. Time to time he felt his eyes going wet, and looked up, into the sky.

Billy was unexpectedly generous now, buying things he thought Steve would like and pretending what he wasn't doing it because he wanted Steve to stop ignoring his whole existence.

Steve was good at it, almost like his mom.

He started to talk only after Billy got him a few magazines, a candy bar, gave him one of his cigs and turned on a radio station what he wanted to listen.

He even gave Steve his bottle of coke instead of the one he broke on the parking lot. It was warm and tasted a bit strange, but still was nice. 

Besides, the fact that Billy had to refuse from drinking it for Steve's sake brought him a grim satisfaction. 

Asshole deserved that.

It was already dark when they reached Rey's Motel (Color cable TV & Air conditioner!), and when they finally rented a room, getting strange looks from the room manager, Steve felt drowsy.

“Maybe it's heat exhaustion.“ Billy murmured as Steve stumbled on his feet and settled on the nearest bench he saw. He pressed his hand to Steve's forehead, clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Can you stand up, pretty boy?“

“Pff. Of course I can.“ Steve said stubbornly, eyes closed. He eyelids were so heavy. 

He really wanted to sleep, so he yawned and tried to take a more comfortable position.

“Okay.“ Billy agreed. 

Then he lifted Steve up effortlessly, like it was nothing, like he was no heavier than a kitten. In any other time, Steve probably would be angry about being carried up like some girl, but right now he didn't really gave a fuck. 

He just was so tired.

He put his hand on Billy's shoulder, and the next time he opened his eyes, they already were in their room.

“You wanna water?“ Billy asked, putting his backpack on the nightstand when he noticed what Steve was awake.

“Nah.“ Steve mumbled, fingers caressing the fluffy comforter. He yawned again, pleased by the soft bed under him. 

Finally, something besides that damn crusty passenger seat.

“Alright, Harrington.“ Billy said, then came closer and knelt by the edge of the bed. “You are such a pain in the ass.“ He grumbled, grabbing Steve Nike to take it off.

“And you have such long eyelashes.“ Steve said in a sleepy voice, closing his eyes.

He wondered, absently, was Billy surprised or angry now. He didn't have the energy to look and see it himself.

Maybe he was both, maybe he was neither. Schreginder's cat, or some shit like that.

Billy remained silent, and the only sound in the room was an old clock ticking methodically. 

“Billy?“ Steve called softly after some time. 

“What, pretty boy?“ 

“You won't. You won't leave me alone, right?“ 

Big hand what held his ankle stilled. Steve felt how Billy's thumb gently brushed his skin.

“No, sweetheart.“ Billy said, pulling Steve's socks off. Steve thought what he sounded sad. He didn't really knew why. “I won't .“

“'Kay.“ He whispered. “That's good.“

That's good.


	4. He Had Nowhere Else To Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Your name is a golden bell hung in my heart. I would break my body to pieces to call you once by your name.”  
> ― Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn

The more days passed by in their journey, the more familiar they got around each other.

It was so much different from Hawkins High, where Billy had to sneak secret glances at Harrington in the school cafeteria, where he had to push and shove at the basketball court just to _touch_ him, where he had to fucking yell just for at least a bit of his attention from the infamous King Steve.

It was different, now. Steve depended in everything on him, so he didn't really have much of a choice.

Still was a stubborn little brat, tho. Liked to pout and cross his arms and huff, trying to ignore Billy. Acting like that rich chick from the Breakfast Club.

Fucking princess.

_He likes to play hard to get_ , Tommy said one time when they were getting wasted on the junkyard, _like everyone doesn't know already what a slut he is_.

Billy had a suspicion what Tommy himself wasn't so immune to Harrington charms. Sometimes he even felt a stab of jealousy about how close these two was in the past. 

Tommy was too talkative to his own good.

But even considering what an annoying bitch he was, Billy still was pretty patient. Because besides Tommy and Carol, who else could tell him so much about all the details of Steve's life? Most of the times, he didn't even have to ask.

Talking shit about everyone was their hobby, but Harrington was, no doubt, their favorite topic.

Billy hated what he related to them so much. 

It took a bit of the time, but finally, Steve got more relaxed around him. Every new day Billy observed and noticed new little things what he cherished and tried to save in his memory. 

How he wrinkled his nose when he was grossed out by something, like the canned food Billy gave him. How carefree he laughed, with a mouth full of cereals, when they had some free time in the mornings and could spend it by watching cartoons on the TV. How Billy's shirt what he liked to steal and what was too big for him around the shoulders, slipped down and bared his creamy skin, covered in little dark moles.

He liked to wear it inside of the rooms they were renting, with only boxers and his long white socks on, sliding on the floor. Probably thinking what it looks cool, which was pretty cute because cool is the last word Billy would use for it. Grade A jerk off material, yes, but cool? 

Nah, sorry, Harrington.

He knew already what Steve was a troubled sleeper. He had nightmares often, whimpering and crying in his sleep, babbling something unintelligible about monsters, like if he was a little kid scared of the Boogieman. Billy usually tucked him closer, petting his damp hair and whispering sweet words until he wouldn't calm down.

He wondered why the fuck Steve had them in the first place. Maybe it was his general nervousness what he also noticed a long time ago. Just a little noise and his huge brown eyes turned into damn saucers. Anxiety disorder, or some shit.

But these nights wasn't even the worst ones. 

The worst ones were when Harrington had wet dreams. It was nights when Billy had to go in a cold shower or to hide in the bathroom and furiously jerk off to the vision of Steve pleasured face with slightly parted pink lips, to the sound of his hoarse soft moans, to the way how thin blanket hugged the curves and muscles of his body.

It was already a lot to handle, but Billy was hungry. He was a greedy man and he couldn't help himself.

He never did dirty business to him, even when Harrington was drugged with sleeping pills what Billy put in his drinks sometimes, or cuffed to the bed and helpless. He was a bad guy and he knew it, but he wasn't like _that_.

It was throwing his arm around Steve's shoulders, or pressing his tight to Steve's tight when they sat in the cafe, or slapping his ass with a wet towel to hurry him up in the mornings. 

Basically, Billy enjoyed all that he could get.

Was Harrington obvious to this or did he felt something and just played coy, Billy didn't know. Watching through the driver mirror at how he liked and sucked a purple (how symbolizing) popsicle, Billy highly suspected the second one.

Harrington didn't even blink while shamelessly showing most of it into his mouth and humming a cheesy Elvis song what played on the radio.

(Love me tender, love me sweet, never let me go.)

“Christ, Harrington, do you even know what napkins exist for?“ Billy said, annoyed by how tight his jeans suddenly became. Steve looked up at him, his thumb still between his glistening lips.

“That's a lot coming from a guy who pissed into a sink yesterday and didn't even wash his hands.“ He mumbled, throwing a wooden stick into the opened window.

Billy snorted, trying to hold himself from smiling, turned his head away.

Classic Harrington. Never fails to amuse him.

“When are we going to stop already?“ Steve loudly whined after a moment. “I'm _tired_.“

Billy rolled his eyes. 

Here we go again.

“Drop the act, dollface. You can't be fucking tired; you did less than nothing today.“ 

Except for spending Billy's money. Guy surely had an appetite. 

Now Billy knew where did this ass come from.

“Urgh. I still can be tired of this.“ Steve groaned, grabbing Billy's sunglasses from the front seat. ”You're such a jerk.”

“Yeah, pretty boy. Love you too.“

Steve put his sunglasses on with a stone poker face, clearly not impressed. Billy grinned, sending him a slurty wink.

They spend some time in silence, listening to the radio and enjoying the summer breeze. Billy got his pack of smokes from the glove compartment, lighted up a ciggie. 

Perfect.

The only thing he needs is to turn the radio to something more listenable.

“No, stop!“ Steve yelled, kicking Billy's seat with his leg like a spoiled brat he was. “Its, like, my favorite song, dude-“ 

“You said that five times today already, and all about different songs.“ Billy pointed out, exhaling smoke calmly. “And don't make those puppy eyes on me, I'm fucking done with this corny shit, it's time to listen to some real music.“

Steve closed his eyes and sighed as if he was a suffering martyr. And that was all gratitude for Billy teaching him some _taste_.

“Okay, Jesus.“ Steve grumbled. He fussed a bit on the back seat, a restless bored darling. “Hey, man? Can we eat at McDonald's today, how do you think?“

“McDonald's, huh?“ Billy purred, slowly. “And why do you think what you deserved that, Harrington?“

 

“So, remember Robin, a girl from my work?“ Steve asked, munching his french fries, idly sitting at the red McDonald's table. 

Be damned his big shiny puppy eyes.

“Yeah,“ Billy said reluctantly, sprawled on his seat. Sipped his diet coke, smiled to the pack of girls who giggled shyly, watching them as they passed by. “Why? Gonna ask date advice from me, lover boy?“

Steve huffed, fighting a small smile. 

“No, asshole, don't flatter yourself. Besides, she's not even my type.“ 

“Oh, so King Steve has a type? I heard what you pretty much down to fuck around with every girl that looks at you.“ 

“Um, yeah, no.“ Harrington said. “That's not serious. I have a type when it's serious.“

Billy quirked his eyebrow. 

What a slut, indeed.

“Anyway.“ Steve brushed this topic off before Billy could open his mouth to ask him about his type. “I think...“ He leaned closer across the table, carefully glancing around. 

Billy tried to look bored, while his dumb heart was beating like crazy.

“I think,“ Steve repeated, in a whisper. 

_C'mon baby, say it_ , Billy thought. 

_I think you are my type, Billy_.

_I think I like boys too_.

_I think, I really want you. Can we return to the car so you could fuck my ass?_

Okay, the last one was a bit of a stretch.

But a man can dream, right?

“I think, Robin is a lesbian.“ Steve finally finished, looking Billy into the eyes.

“...What?“

“Listen, hear me out, okay?“ Harrington says, face all lighted up. Billy absently wonders how long he waited to talk with someone who wasn't a middle schooler. He clearly wanted to keep his voice low, but the gossip excitement was taking over, and while Billy still tried to process this information what came of nowhere, Steve hurriedly bite another frie and tickled a curled hair behind his ear. “She always so mean with guys, and not like, intentionally mean, because she is flirting? But _really_ mean. But with girls, it's so much different. One time, that girl came up-um, I think she works with you in the pool?“ 

“Heather?“ Billy offered, subconsciously wanting to fix his already non-existing hair too and scratching his sunburnt ear instead.

“Yeah! Well, one time, Heather came up to buy a strawberry shortcake ice cream, and while they talked, I'm pretty much sure what Robin actually blushed and nearly dropped the cone. It's really seemed like flirting, I'm telling you.“

“Christ. That's hot.“ Billy said.

“Ew, dude.“ Harrington wrinkled his nose. It looked so cute what Billy wanted to punch him in his pretty face. “Robin is like a cousin to me, don't say stuff like that.“ 

Billy rolled his eyes, stole a frie from Harringtons fingers, dipped it in his ice cream.

“Hooked up with her, one time.“

“With _Robin_?“ Steve asked in horror.

“No, you idiot. With Heather, of course. Noticed she had a thing for my hair.“ He remembered, chewing. “Maybe there was was a reason for that...Maybe it's reminded her of that chick of yours.“ Billy said, with a burst of panic after, what he tried to calm down.

Fuck, he just unintentionally opened his own fucking dirty secret.

Heather was tall and slim, yet curvy. Had those big doe eyes and brown soft hair. Was playful and sassy and docile in his hands.

She was his personal sugar substitute, the closest thing to Steve he could get.

Steve looked at him with a slightly opened mouth.

“Wow, man. That's pretty smart, actually. Maybe you're right.“ He said, resting his chin on his hand and thinking. Billy breathed out. 

Looks like he's safe, for now.

“Aw, pretty boy. It's sad to watch how your lack of a gag reflex gets wasted on food only.“ He still cooed when Steve pushed almost all of the cheeseburger into his mouth.

The way how Steve's cheeks turned pink and how he choked on the burger was fucking priceless.

 

Before going to sleep, they smoked together, sometimes in the hood of the Camaro, sometimes on the balcony, sometimes even in the bed (Billy liked to pretend in his head what it was an after-sex smoke), if they were too lazy. 

Right now Steve sat near him, looking small and perfect in Billy's denim jacket. They probably should get him his own clothes, besides that little sailor uniform, but fuck he looked good in it. Just like in Billy's clothes. 

It was like marking him up, making everyone know what Harrington is his.

“Hargrove?“ Steve said, eyes up to the stars. He looked kind of ethereal now. Even a simple cigarette between his pale fingers looked like something beautiful, something that didn't bring deadly diseases and wasn't a complete waste of time and money. “Why me?“ He asked, simple as that.

_Because I'm scared_ , Billy thought, swallowing hard.

_Because you are the only one I want_.

_Because I love you_.

Then he laughed, ugly and cruel and sharp even to his own ears. “Sorry to disappoint you, baby;“ He sneered, enchanted by how Steve's eyelashes fluttered, and angry, angry, angry. “But the only reason is that nobody is gonna search for you, except a bunch of nerdy kids.“

He waited for the screams, for the fists, for anything.

But Harrington only glanced at him, his soft round face open and vulnerable, his brown eyes watery, and Billy hates himself.

“Yeah.“ Steve said, stomping down his cigarette, looking even smaller. “Seems about right.“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Billy why u gotta be so mean
> 
> (anyway i rly hope u liked it guys!!! thanks for all the support you keep giving me; i love u all so much heh. tried to show different aspects of their relationships here. Billy is such a pinning horny loser help him someone jeesh)


	5. Togetherness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Love me, that face said. I'm so lonely, so desperate. I'll give you whatever you want.”  
> ― Janet Fitch, White Oleander

“No, no, I don't want to!“ He screamed in the verge of hysterical, and the big cold hand what holds his wrist squeezed it even harder. “Let me go!“

“This is not about what you want, Steven,“ Dad said, calm and strict and no tolerant to any sort of objection, “This is about teaching you a lesson. We give you absolutely everything, and what we get in return? Your tantrums? Your outbursts? Do you know how many kids would give all that they have just to be in your place? You ungrateful, needy, spoiled child.“ He pushed Steve into the doorway, little silver key flashed in his other hand.

Steve stared on it with absolute horror on his wet face.

No, no, not the key.

“No!“ He screamed, and wiggled, and fought back. Kicked dad's patent leather shoes, even tried to bite his hand.

But he was so small. 

So weak.

“You are going to sit here all night if you need to.“ Dad said, locking up the door after he roughly pushed Steve inside. “I will not tolerate this type of behavior in my house, Steven. You will sit here and think about what a bad boy you was, and in the morning I expect you to be sorry.“

“Dad! Dad, please,“ Steve cried, knocking at the door, tugging the handle furiously. “Daddy...It's too dark here, I'm scared, please.“

He started to walk away, and his steps echoed inside of Steve's head. Panic rose in his chest, and he was trembling, knees going wobbly. “Daddy, I'm so sorry, I will be good, I promise-“

“Good night, Steve.“ Was all that dad said, fading away, far far away, voice smooth and muffed through the door between them.

And then, there was silence.

Crying, Steve slid down on the floor and hugged his knees, making himself as small as possible.

It was so dark here, not a single light, not a single window. Steve hated darkness. Hated the basement. He had these dreams about it, about the Boogieman, about the Big Bad Wolf, about the old witches from the books mom used to read him before she realized it gives him nightmares.

They steal children in the night, in the dark. Bad children, like Steve. 

Dad always said to him what he was bad. 

Brat. 

Crybaby.

Maybe if he won't sleep today, if he will keep quiet, if he will make himself small, no one will hurt him, in this darkness.

Hiccuping, he tried to cry quieter.

If only grandpa Otis was here, he would yell on his dad and hug Steve and let him sleep in his big warm bed, telling funny stories and jokes and petting Steve's hair.

He loved grandpa; it was too bad what dad said he got sick. Steve hoped he will get better soon.

It was cold here, very cold, and Steve shivered, fingers fidgeting with the edges of his socks. Sniffed, blinking tears away.

There was silence, at first.

And then Steve heard someone's heavy, unnatural breath. He stilled, terrified and frozen on his place. 

The smell of something rotten, something sweet, something dead crept into the dusty smell of the old basement. 

Steve felt his limbs going numb. 

It circled around him, claw scratching the wooden floor, and he didn't saw anything except darkness, but he knew what _It saw him_.

He had nowhere to run, and even if he had, he couldn't move a finger, by some reason. When It's decaying breath warmed his face, he tried to scream, only to realize what he had no voice. 

It cackled, ugly and painful sounding, like something was wrong with It, abnormal and deformed. Few drops of saliva fell on Steve's hands, and it burnt his skin like acid.

He curled into himself, and It jumped, and before shutting his eyes, Steve saw a flower of sharp yellow teeth, and someone held him so he couldn't move, and-

 

“Fuck, ouch, Harrington!“ Someone cried right into his year. Steve finally had his voice, so he screamed and screamed, squirming and trying to free himself from the strong arms. “Shit, you fucking little-“ Someone hissed, and put his warm hand over Steve's mouth. 

Steve sank his teeth into the hot sweaty flesh, biting hard.

Fight back. He gotta fight back, he gotta keep screaming, maybe someone will hear him, maybe dad will come back-

“Jesus fucking Christ!“ Someone yelled. “Listen, it's alright, Harrington- _Steve_ , it's alright, I'm not going to fucking hurt you, okay?“ 

Steve whimpered; he was so scared, his heart was beating like crazy. 

“It's okay. It's okay, it was only a bad dream, yeah?“ Billy rasped.

Steves whole body trembled, and then he went limp.

“Yeah, alright, _good boy_ -it's just me, nobody gonna hurt you.“ Billy whispered, holding him. “Not when I'm here. You understand?“ His hand moved from Steve's mouth to his sweaty forehead, petted his hair. “That's right. Calm down. Shit, I think you just gave me a black eye. Fuck, that hurts.“

Steve sniffed, making shaky breaths.

God, he made an absolute fool of himself. Hargrove now must think what he's a fucking crybaby.

He curled closer to Billy's warm body until they were firmly pressed into each other, skin to skin.

“Can we keep the light?“ He asked, sounding definitely smaller than he originally planned.

Billy sighed melodramatically, fixed damped comforter, tucking Steve in, and stretched over the creaking bed to turn on the lamp on the nightstand.

“If someone called fucking cops, _you_ gonna explain to them what happened.“ He grumbled sleepily, laying back. His arms securely wrapped around Steve's shivering frame.

Steve hummed a little uh-huh, not trusting his voice yet. Billy opened his eyes, dark and drowsy. 

Their faces were so close what their noses almost touched.

“I'm sorry what I hit you and bite your hand.“ Steve murmured after a moment. “It's your fault what we have to sleep in one bed, tho.“ 

“Hush.“ Billy said, in that tone what you usually talk to little kids. He looked much younger himself when his features were softened with sleepiness. “Sleep.“ He added in a slurred demand, and Steve closed his eyes. 

 

Billy finally decided what they drove far enough from Hawkins to slow down, and they started to stay at one place longer, taking breaks from their never-ending ride. They washed dirty laundry, bought some real food in the grocery store, and Billy even got Steve a set of new clothes, because otherwise, he had nothing to wear while everything dried up on the rope on their small balcony. 

It was sports shorts and grey crop top with a blue “Go, Dodgers!” on it. Steve made a sour face when Billy gave it to him because it was from the used good shop. He would never wear something that belonged to someone else, someone who he didn't even know, who could be ill or dirty or even dead right now, but then Billy just shrugged with _of course, you can walk naked around, sweet cheeks, I don't mind, but our neighbors can have a problem with it,_ and Steve had to put it on with a weak _yeah, dream on, Hargrove_ .

Steve didn't really want to do anything today. So he didn't.

He laid on the bed, watching silly TV shows when Billy worked out: legs, arms, chest, press, arms again, back. Just glancing at him, sweaty and flushed, with his cigarette between his teeth and opened can of beer in his hand made Steve feel exhausted.

He laid on the bed, listening to radio ( _Bingle, bangle, bungle, he's so happy in the jungle he refuses to go_ ), staring at the wall cracks and spacing out when Billy did them dinner, Mac 'n' cheese with hot dogs, and forced him to eat some.

He laid on the bed, eyes on the ceiling, when Billy sat nearby, the bed squeaking under his weight.

“Cheer up, buttercup.“ Billy sing-song, slapping Steve's naked tight with a shit eating grin on his face, earning an annoyed glare. “There is a free pool for motel visitors. We are going to swim.“ 

 

The pool was nice, surprisingly clean and stainless, and just slightly bigger than that one Steve had at home. Billy was so full of excitement and radiating buzzing energy, what Steve swam with him, and even won him in swimming races few times. Thanks, Hawkins High Swimming Team!

“Well done, Harrington.“ Billy grinned, glimmering water reflecting in his bright bright blue eyes, eyelashes dark and clumped. Steve beamed in return, and they continued splashing under the displeased nagging of an old couple, who was quietly exercising near them.

They just snickered, continuing fooling around and think up dumb competitions until Steve saw a red haired chubby girl what distantly but surely reminded him Barb.

He sat on the white lounge chair, placing Billy's stuff (sunscreen, sunglasses, a bottle of sparkling water), rubbing himself with a rough motel towel, trying to get warm. Billy stayed in the pool, still looking pleased and relaxed in that way what Steve never saw him before. His bruises started to fade away, and even his shaved hair didn't look so sharp as it did in beginning. 

Sunset was coral pink, making everything around look softer and dreamier. Star striped flags wave in the breezy summer wind, children laughed, and Steve gradually calmed down.

The only thing that didn't it to the perfect American Dream picture was the fact that someone interrupted him from his improvised sunbathing.

“Um, hey.“ He offered a charming smile. “Sorry, guys. But you are kinda blocking me the sun.“ 

Two guys, kind of frat boys he and Tommy dreamed to become a few years ago sneered, surrounding him from two sides of the chair.

“Hey, buddy. I'm afraid you took wrong seats.“ Said the one who was bigger, looking on the other guy with a smug expression. “That's usually our place.“

“Oh.“ Steve blinked a few times, eyes big. He turned to study the virgin white plastic sides of the chair, looked up again. “Really? Don't see your names on it.“ He shrugged, face sad with fake sympathy, lips in a little pout.

Guy gritted his teeth. 

“Well, maybe you should look better.“ 

“Mhm. Don't think so.“ Steve said innocently, stretching out on the chair like a lazy cat. “Maybe _you_ should fuck off already and stop blocking me the sun?“

They looked furious, at first, and then Steve heard heavy steps behind him.

“Is everything alright here?“ Billy said, voice deep and sweeter than honey. His hands were on Steve's shoulders, palms wet and warm and grounding. “We're all having such a fun time here, aren't we? I would really _hate_ if something wasn't right, you know.“

It was such an obvious threat, barely hidden by Billy's dark smile and domineering pose, what Steve couldn't stop himself from feeling that strange excitement what also occupied him every time he and Tommy did mischievous stuff in the past.

Taller guy, supposed leader, stepped aside, eyes trailing from Billy to Steve.

Steve liked how defeated he looked.

“Just peachy.“ Answered he, a sly little smile playing on his face, Billy big frame steady behind his back. “These guys just offered their fave seats to us. Aren't they just _sweet_?“

 

“Hey. Hey, Billy,“ Steve said, sipping Billy's sparkling water, sitting in his sunglasses. “This cloud kinda looks like an elephant, look.“

Billy did a muffled displeased grunt but still rolled on his back after Steve impatiently shook his tan shoulder.

“I don't see any fucking elephants, Harrington.“ Said he in a flat bored voice.

Steve fidgeted with his fingers, biting his lips. Then Billy cracked a grin, raising his eyebrows up.

“It's clearly a dick. Don't you see, this is balls, and-“ 

“Jesus,“ Steve snorted, playfully throwing his towel at Billy's head. “Shut up, Hargrove! You're _the worst_ , I swear to God.“ He laughed, and Billy wagged his tongue, and setting sun was warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did Billy, the natural born swimmer from Cali purposely gave Steve win?.....who knows!,, Also, Daddy Issues everywhere.  
> thank u so so much for reading and supporting this story you guys are the loveliest lil babies and im so grateful and happy to have u 💖 enjoy the lovely calm times while u can heheh.....im writing the 6 chapter with a Grinch smile on my face >:)


	6. What About Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Perhaps the angels decided to shine on me for a little while."  
> ― Lana Del Rey

It's been a cold week. Rainy, with cold gloomy skies. Billy had to give his denim jacket to Steve, along with his pair of old grey sweatpants. Not if he really minded, though. 

It was like a big fat PROPERTY OF BILLY HARGROVE sign all over the Harrington. The fact that his clothes were just a little bit too big for him added it's an undeniable charm.

It was a cheap motel with ugly green walls and unheated rooms now. Called Cherry Pie, or some shit. Billy remembered it only because Steve whined all the evening later about craving a damn pie until Billy didn't throw his pillow to his face. 

Who the fuck would call their motel Cherry Pie, anyway? Talking about logistics.

They laid on the bed, with Steve dumb magazines scattered all over the place. Billy had his sweet time finishing his last smoke for that day and thinking about what the fuck he's gonna do next, while Steve, a toddler in a body of eighteen years old he was, watched cartoons on the badly working TV.

He never read books, at least not in Billy's presence. Settled up for something colorful, fun, could look at pictures and drawings for a really long time. Never watched movies what was serious, or sad, or even simply black and white. In this cases he just got away from the silver screen, face expressing utter boredom with a hint of something else what Billy couldn't name. 

“Ugh. Daffy Duck is so fucking annoying. I hate this dude. Why he's got a voice like that.” Steve complained, slouching on his place. Billy hummed absently, inhaling the cigarette smoke, his eyes closed. 

He started to smoke when he was thirteen, stealing cigs from seniors in school and from dad, or flirting them out from young salesgirls. 

They say smoking will kill you pretty fast, but it's not like Billy was gonna live long enough to get old, anyway.

He was going to die young, in a heavy fucking metal style, while he still looked dope. That's kinda was the plan. 

“Can I have one?” Steve asked.

Billy grinned, delighted. 

Harrington honestly could be such a good boy when he wanted. 

But still.

Discipline is discipline.

“There is the magic word, baby?” He said. There was a note of amused fondness in his voice, along with the teasing.

Steve stared at him without any emotion. Then wrinkled his nose, lips twitching as if he was fighting the urge to pout. Billy just grinned wider.

“Are you _serious_?”

Billy just shrugged, sprawled on his side, relaxed. He felt like a big lazy cat, playing with a little mouse, pawing at it gently and then nipping it with his teeth. Nip, lick, bite, lick again. Comfort, pain, comfort.

Steve left out the most dramatic sigh, throwing his head back on the pillow. Then bounced his leg, looking at the ceiling with the life is unfair and I wanna die sulky face. Billy seriously considered the possibility for him to become an actor.

“Fine, _okay_!” Steve snapped, finally. “Can I have a cigarette, Billy?” He asked, fake sweetness filled with passive aggression. “ _Please_?”

Billy waited a moment, pretending what he is thinking about it. God, Harrington was so damn cute.

“ _Nope_.” 

“Wh-are you….what?!” Steve yelped, looking like Billy just stabbed him with a knife. “Why the fuck _no_? I asked you like you wanted to!”

Calmly, Billy got more comfortable on his side of the bed. “Bad for your health, sweetheart.”

Steve opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened again.

“You are such a piece of shit, man, do you know that?”

“I mean, yeah. _Duh_.” Billy said. It was only a week for Harrington, but Billy had to deal with himself on a daily basis by all his life. “It's past your bedtime, do _you_ know that?”

Steve shook his head, mouthing something suspiciously similar to _un-fucking-believable_.

“Jezz, thanks, _dad_ ,” he said. “What would I do without you.”

Billy flashed him a star bright smile, crossing his legs, feeling heat down in his stomach. 

What an _intoxicating_ innocence.

Don't think about dirty things right now, Billy. Don't.

“Well, now you're just reading my mind, Harrington.”

Steve's face went blank. He turned away and faced the ceiling once again.

Ah. 

The blissful silence.

Too bad it lastest only a few minutes.

“Hey, Billy?” Steve asked, fidgeting with the edge of his comforter. 

Billy tried to look bored while his heart was beating a bit faster in a way what it always did when Steve called him by his name. He opened his eyes, slowly exhaled a little cloud of smoke.

“Now what?” Answered he, glancing at Steve under his lashes from his sitting position.

Harrington was so endearing. Tucked into his blanket, hair messy, eyes sleepy but still stubbornly open.

“Why would you...why did you, um.” Steve looked down, breaking their eye contact. Billy watched, enchanted by the way his little curled lashes casted a shadows on his face. “Why did you shoot in your own dad?”

Oh, fucking Christ.

Billy gripped his teeth, body tense. His fingers automatically squeezed cigarette so hard what it crumpled, so he got another one.

“Why.” Billy echoed. “ _Why_.” He said again, with a dark chuckle. His free hand was clenched in fist, nails digging into the flesh with such a furious force what it probably broke his skin. “That's a goddamn good question, Harrington.”

Steve stiffed on his place, probably uncomfortable from his own question, but Billy couldn't bring himself to care. 

“Motherfucker got drunk. Were his and mom's divorce anniversary. He found my secret runway stash, wanted to take it away. I said no.” Billy played with the cigarette, chewed his lips. He tried not to remember that night. But it's not like he ever was gonna forget it. “He's got angry. Really fucking angry. It got ugly, and I'm, well. I had to. I had to do it.” 

“Oh,” Steve said, softly. “Sorry.”

“Yeah,” Billy said, bitterly. “No shit you are.”

They sat like this in a moment of silence. Billy mindlessly touched the golden ring that he got from his mom, fingertips brushing the cold smooth metal.

He's felt an inner sense of pride that he and mom left Neil on the same day. Just eight years apart.

Then Steve moved closer, just a little bit.

“My dad...um. He is kinda. He's a major jerk too.”

“Great. What are we now, a sob story anonymous club?” Billy muttered, rolling his eyes. 

“No, I really mean it!” Steve exclaimed. “He's, like, a CEO-wannabe and shit. A work-work-work kind of a guy. They probably gonna be home soon, and Jesus, I swear to God, man, my mom is gonna be like, _Darling, don't you feel like something is missing_?” He sing-sang with a high pitched voice. “And dad's gonna be, like, _goddamn woman, it's probably your stupid flowers got wilted, not a big deal. Now don't touch me, it's time to lock in my office for a week and do some work_.” He furrowed his brows, saying it with a voice on a few octaves deeper. For some reason, that sounded even more ridiculous than him trying to talk like his mom, and Billy also highly doubted what Steve's father ever pouted as Steve did right now. 

Unable to control himself, which was nothing new when Harrington was around, Billy actually laughed. 

Not smirked, not snorted, but let out a little genuine laugh. 

Okay, this was getting worse than he ever thought it's gonna be. But then Harrington beamed at him with a lopsided stupid grin, and Billy also thought what it was better than anything he hoped it to be. 

 

When they didn't have to move out in a rush, their morning always been lazy. Billy liked to read books that he finds in the rooms, forgotten by their previous owners or stocked on the shelves by the motel managers. Usually pulp fiction, shitty detectives with a claim on noir, or that types of novels what he saw Karen was pretended to reading when she actually was staring at him. 

Nothing particularly special or interesting, but it was enough to keep his brain busy. 

He flipped the yellow duty page, chewing an undercooked toast, thinking about how obvious it was what the killer was a gardener when the loud scream broke the silence.

Billy jumped from his seat, half of his toast falling on the floor, forgotten.

“Harrington??” He shouted, cursing under his breath when he almost stumbled on the pile of clothes they left on the floor. He quickly headed to the bathroom, crazy scenarios about Steve being hurt running in his head. 

“Billy,” Harrington begged, “Come here, please!”

“It's better not be a fucking prank, or I swear to god-”

Billy opened the bathroom door with a kick, ready to save Harrington's dumb ass from whatever situation he's himself got into and froze at the door frame, stunned.

Harrington was curled up on the closed toilet seat, his lanky arms wrapped around his legs. Still wet after the shower, with eyes big as saucers, he looked at Billy with the most pleading expression Billy ever saw on his stupid, freshly shaved pretty face.

There were no signs of being hurt or harmed on him, so Billy allowed himself to breathe again.

“This fucking _monster_ -it's just, just sits here, and watches me, why the fuck it's so big? What if it's poisonous? I almost _stepped_ on it!” Steve whined. The tone of his voice could be described only with one word: hysterical.

It took Billy a moment to look down and see a dark spider on the blue tile. 

It also took him a lot of self-control to not burst into laughter right there and now.

“ _Princess_ , are you fucking serious? It's just a _spider_.” 

“Yeah, Billy, yeah, I am serious! Are you blind, don't you see how big it is? Is dying from a poisonous bite a joke to you, too?” Harrington exclaimed. 

“Calm down, drama queen. No one is gonna die, okay?” Billy stepped in, trying to grab a piece of toilet paper to catch the causer of Steve's distress. 

It maybe was a wrong move to make, because now spider was running from him in Steve's direction.

Steve clearly didn't take this news well. 

“Jesus Lord Hargrove _KILL IT_!” He screamed, legs kicking in the air when he tried to move farther.

“CALM DOWN I'M TRYING TO!” 

“CAN'T YOU TRY BETTER!!”

“ _Shut the fuck up_!” Billy barked, losing it. Steve immediately closed his mouth shut, watching Billy trying to catch the spider. 

It managed to run under the old stained rug, the poor creature.

“Shit. It got away.” 

“Where it is?” Steve whispered. He examined the floor, his floppy hair bounced from side to side. “Do you see anything?”

It's not like Billy looked at something that wasn't Steve at this moment, but he still said, “Nah. It's all clean. Will you calm down already? They are afraid of you even more than you're afraid of them, do you know that?” 

Steve huffed and glanced up at him, visibly relaxing but still sulky. 

“Can't believe what you screamed like a girl just because of one little bug.” 

“Okay, Hargrove, first of all. I did not scream like a girl.” Steve objected, crossing his arms on his chest defensively. “Second, it wasn't a little bug, it was a big fucking spider! Know the difference, dickhead. They are actually dangerous!” 

Billy rolled his eyes. Having to take care of Harrington was _tiring_. 

“Yeah, right. Even Max doesn't scream like that when she sees one, and she is an actual girl.” 

“Well, it's not my problem what you two got no sense of self-defense!” 

“You're such a little bitch.” Billy snorted. Steve glared at him, cheeks a bit pink now. 

Then he said something, but Billy didn't quite hear him. He was distracted by the big fat spider that sat on the wall right behind Steve's shoulder. It was big, okay, Billy would give Steve credits here. He didn't really notice it at first, while it was on the floor.

It must be brought to Steve's attention what Billy stopped to listen to him, so he blinked a few times, confused. 

“Harrington,” Billy warned. Steve's face got paler. “Don't look back. It's-”

And, of course, Harrington looked back.

Then he fucking _screeched_.

At this point, the bathroom turned into a battlefield, air filled with their yelling and cursing. Billy realized what Steve was wrapped around him like a koala baby only after he killed the damn spider. 

His triumph of slaying the dragon and saving the princess slowly faded away and Billy's face grew hot in a sudden shyness. He was painfully aware of the dumb romantic movie-like situation they were.

He allowed himself to enjoy the heat of Steve's body, the softness of his arms around his shoulders. His smell, masculine but sweet like vanilla, sweet like home. It reminded Billy of times when his mom used to bake sugar cookies right after his baseball games. All for him. Every one of them.

Billy breathed and breathed in.

It was like ecstasy. Intoxicating, agonizing moment of their accidental intimacy. 

Billy brushed Steve's back, his milky skin. He wasn't ready to broke the spell, wasn't ready to move away. He felt like he was hiding a dirty secret, like Steve just needed to look him into the eyes and understand it all and scream, _get off me, you dirty pervert_. 

Yet, he couldn't bring himself to move away. He just tried to get mentally prepared for whatever dramatic reaction Steve gonna have.

Instead, Steve just gave him a deadpan stare.

They still held each other in a firm embrace.

“I fucking hate this motel.” He said, simply as that. Bratty. “You owe a good damn dinner after this.” 

“Well,-” 

“Dinner _and_ cherry pie for the desert.” Steve pressed. His eyebrows still were furrowed, his nose still was scrunched.

He was pretty as a picture.

Billy had no other choice than to obey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this chapter was gonna be a first part of the final BUT these two just can't shut up in my head they need to share their chaotic dumassery with the world :/  
> anyway im so happy to return to this fic and to you guys! you are just the sweetest ones and ur support is so so important to me. i hope u gonna like dis chapter too hehe
> 
> (also please don't say mean things about my English, it's not a mother language for me so it's kinda hard to write and im just trying my best? if u wanna help then message me w pointing on my mistakes!)
> 
> as always, i live here - https://billyandsteve.tumblr.com/ ♡


End file.
